


Cotton

by subtleufos



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Aged-Up Character(s), Almost Kiss, BAMF Will, Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay Will Byers, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mike Wheeler Is a Little Shit, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Will is a Mess, and mike tries his best, fuck u troy, theyre like 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtleufos/pseuds/subtleufos
Summary: “Mike, you think anyone with a nosebleed is badass.” Will interrupted him. Mike shook his head slowly.“Nah. You're just a badass with or without battle scars.” He looked away for a moment, thinking, and turned back to look at him “You know that, right?” he said, voice edging onto some level of concern.Will laughed and did his best to ignore the jolts of pain that came with it. He winced.Mike fiddled with his thumbs “You're probably the coolest person I've met, Will.” he said, the tone so soft it felt like tufts of cotton and velvet.Will hummed a half-ass disagreement and let his face fully fall into the water. Mike was going to be the death of him, isn't he?





	Cotton

Will groaned and leaned back, his hand still gripping at his probably broken rib cage. The top of the toilet seat isn't exactly comfortable but at this point nothing would be.

Mike rushed to the bathtub and turned the knobs until he was satisfied with the temperature, which was maybe three degrees off burning if Will was lucky.

He pushed the diverter and turned back to face Will “Can you take your shirt off by yourself or does it hurt too much?” he said, the worried strain in his voice cracking a little.

Will tried to relax and began to lift his arms to the top of his flannel, but the sharp pain in his rib decided that was _too high_ and he winced. Mike took this as a no and scooted up onto his knees and began unbuttoning Will’s shirt, leaning so close Will actually had to move his knees out of the way, which was a whole other problem, and squinted as he did this.

Will contemplated whether or not Mike needed glasses and imagined him wearing huge, ugly ones that fell off his face and slid down his nose. He could imagine Mike being pissy about it too, and it blossomed ease in his chest.

Mike smoothed out the flannel when he finished unbuttoning and slowly, making sure not to hurt Will, tugged it off his shoulders and arms and placed it next to them. He still had to take off his sleeveless shirt. Will knows exactly why his gut twists when he realizes this. He doesn't like to think about it.

It’s nearly impossible _not_ to think about it, especially because Mike just bit his lip and pulled at the sides of his shirt until they became fully un-tucked and wrapped his arms almost fully around Will so he could grab the bottom of the shirt and start pulling it over his head.

The cotton felt smooth and against his skin as it traced up his spine, the contrast of the warm from Mike’s fingers and slight coldness to the air sent spikes of goosebumps across his arms. Mike got it over Will’s head and pulled it quickly down his arms. He set it on top of the flannel, looked at Will and frowned slightly, placing his hand underneath a clump of small cuts where the rocks dug into his chest and partly dragging his hand down before letting it hover in the air for a moment. The soft noise of the shower took any of the awkward silence Will would’ve been dreading if he had any idea that Mike would be taking his shirt off and avidly touching his bare skin.

Will waited for Mike to shuffle back to the tub so Will could take off his pants, y’know, without him watching. Mike didn’t move. And then he did, but only he didn’t shuffle back, he timidly grabbed at Will’s belt. Will sucked in a gasp of air.

_Oh._

If it wasn't for the constant thumping in his left eye and the soft feeling of popping every time he breathed, Will would've pinched himself. Mike knew he could do this by himself. Will couldn't raise his arms but he could lower them somewhat fine. He was doing this on purpose.

This looked too much like too many fever dreams Will’s had. He didn’t know what was worse; the fact Mike is undoing his belt, the fact that he’s taking his damn time, the fact that (and this is important) he’s on his knees-- actively yet unknowingly pushing Will’s legs apart, or the way he looked at him once he unbuckled it with a few clicks. Deep brown eyes just _looking_ at him, asking him something they both do and don't know about what.

_Is this okay?_

_Yes. Or no. I don't know._

The sound and feeling of his belt being fully dragged off brought him crashing back into reality, realizing in a daze that Mike is actually going to take his pants off right now (!OHMYGOD!) and Will’s going to have to keep calm and make himself think of some nasty shit and not focus on the way that Mike’s eyes haven’t left his even though he hooked onto the button of his jeans with his jaw slightly open in some type of awe, and Will doesn't even want to _know_ what he looks like right now, all bruised and bloody and gross. His freckled cheeks fading in and out of pink to red, Mike finally looked at what he was doing and stuck out his tongue slightly in concentration.

 _Ziiiipp_.

Will realized he wasn’t breathing, and tried to let out a huff as quiet as he possibly could-- until Mike wrapped two snug fingers around the waist of his jeans and a little bit of his underwear. Will swallowed thickly at the thought of actually being _naked_ in front of _Michael Wheeler_ , and feels an ungodly amount of relief when he hears the tiny snap of his boxers hit his skin. Mike’s fingers curl into the sides of his pants and stretched it down a little. Will isn’t aware his mouth is open until Mike looks up at him and pulls.

This is torture. Mike was torture. Every pull was slowly wearing at him. It’s pretty ironic how the only person who thought Will wouldn't split in two was the one who would be doing it. He can't break.

Mike lazily dragged the denim off him all at once, yanking Will along a little. This time Mike backed up slightly because Will’s crotch was literally _right there._ Will cringed at the dumb plaid pattern of his boxers. He could practically hear Mike thinking, ‘ _Is plaid the only thing you ever wear?’_ in which the answer would be a defense saying, ‘ _I wasn't really expecting on anyone seeing my underwear today, Mike.’_

Mike turns to look at the shower that was now starting to steam in thick chunks, and back to Will half-apologetically. Will could cry, he really could. Mike stands and wraps his arm as cozily as he could around Will’s back and lifts. Will’s rib cracks with a stab of pain that draws a short noise of discomfort from him. He leaned back into Mike for a moment, stuck his feet into the tub, and sat at the end of it, letting the nice-sting of hot water pour over the cuts on his chest, knees, and cheek.

He closed his eyes and let it pour down his face and drag hair and dried blood down his skin. He took a few deep breaths that jerked and shook every time he did them, and sighed. He licked at the split at the right of his bottom lip and tried biting at it.

He sat there for a few moments contemplating before opening his eyes. There was Mike, sitting in the middle of Will’s bathroom, staring at him with an odd look of admiration on his face. Will cracked a smile that stung like a son of a bitch at him.

Mike snorted “You kinda look badass.” He said quietly, looking over at the floor at the small pile of clothes.

Will rolled his eyes “Badass.” He mocked, rubbing small circles into his side “Right.”

“I’m serious! You have a black eye and a nosebleed--"

“Mike, you think anyone with a nosebleed is badass.” Will interrupted him. Mike shook his head slowly.

“Nah. You're just a badass with or without battle scars.” He looked away for a moment, thinking, and turned back to look at him “You know that, right?” he said, voice edging onto some level of concern.

Will laughed and did his best to ignore the jolts of pain that came with it. He winced.

Mike fiddled with his thumbs “You're probably the coolest person I've met, Will.” he said, the tone so soft it felt like tufts of cotton and velvet.

Will hummed a half-ass disagreement and let his face fully fall into the water. Mike was going to be the death of him, isn't he?

When Will felt a little cleaner and less death-y he turned off the shower but realized again that he couldn't _actually_ get up by himself and Mike subtly dozed off so he was left to sit there and think. His face felt a little better. Less throbbing with wide blocks of burning pain and more of an annoying dullness that made his skin feel full somehow. His rib still seemed to pop whenever he took a deep breath and he’s pretty sure that it's broken. Other than think of those two things, there was practically nothing else to do. So, he closed his eyes and just listened to Mike’s breathing, slightly envious of how easily he’s doing that right now. Their breaths chased away the quiet.

Will doesn’t remember when the crush first started. He knew that he was always gay, that was just a fact he’d always had and by the time he realized it was _bad,_ it was too late to freak out about it. Will thought the same about his crush on Mike. He knows he’s got it bad, too. Really bad, like, _every-time-I-think-of-you-I-have-trouble-breathing,_ bad. He wishes he could tell someone.

Dustin was exceptionally good at asking him who his crush is to the point of Will ending up burying his face into his hands and half-screaming annoyingly until he dropped it. He never understood the whole ‘gay people are sex perverts’ thing. He didn’t think (well, more than any other teenager) about _that_ stuff. Most of the things he thought about when his crush is notably intense is just holding hands and kissing. A lot of kissing. Sometimes the urge was unbearable and he kind of hated Mike for having such a kissable face.

_But today was weird, right? Friends don’t just… Take their friend’s pants off like that._

_Maybe they do. Maybe the news is right-- Maybe you’re a pervert._ He shook the outrageous thought from his head. No. There’s no way that was normal. Will knew this, because Lucas or Dustin or anyone else wouldn’t have done that. The sad part is, even if they tried to, Will probably wouldn’t let them, so this is his fault. Of course it’s his fault. It always seemed to be, somehow. He took in a long, shallow breath and let it sit there for a moment.

That’s when he could hear his mom’s car pull into the rocky driveway and a deep-set feeling of panic that flushed in his stomach. Joyce was going to flip.

“Mike!” He whispered “Mike, wake up!” He tried and failed to get up for a second time. He grabbed a shampoo bottle next to him and used his good side to chuck it at Mike, hitting him square in the forehead.

Mike jerked awake, hitting the back of his head on the cabinet “Hello?” he sluggishly asked, then frowned “What was that for?”

Will hit the side of the bathtub a few times anxiously “My moms here!” he murmured “Pass me my pants,"

Mike squinted, but passed him his pants anyway “Dude, you’re still soaked.” he paused “Why do you care anyway?” he rubbed the back of his head, feeling the swell of where his head slammed against the cabinet.

Will shoved his jeans over his drenched legs and boxers uncomfortably “Do you know my mom, Mike?” he deadpanned “Can you help me up?”

Mike stood “If I see Troy, I’m going to kill him.” he said, wrapping a warm arm around Will and boosted him up. Will nodded a thank you and looked down at his belt. Mike noticed and picked it up for him.

He zipped up his pants and buttoned it, ignoring the pink that grew in Mike’s cheeks as he watched. Will looked up at him, and then to the mirror for the first time “Holy shit my face looks fucked!” he exclaimed, leaning over and staring at himself. The skin around his left eye was flushing a pinkish-red color and the split in his lower lip looked like a cat scratched a small chunk out of it. His nose was hurting but he really wasn’t expecting to see a large gash across it. Damn, maybe he didn’t fight as well as he thought.

Mike barked a laugh and handed him his belt. Will wrapped it around the hoops but was too distracted by the bags under his eyes and the swelling of his rib he could now clearly see and feel. He didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening.

Mike did. He spun Will towards him and buckled his belt swiftly “Your mom’s here.”

This has to stop. Mike has to stop doing this. Will isn't exactly sure if he wants him to stop, but he has to.

Mike looked up from where his hands are and let himself take a breath for a moment “What do you think is going to happen?” he said just above a whisper.

Will stared at him blankly. _In what fucking context am I supposed to take that in?_ He thought to himself “Uh, I-I don’t know.” he tried to say naturally but it croaked out from the bottom of his throat embarrassingly.

Mike realized how awkward this was and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets “Do you think she'll call Hop or something?” he clarified and looked around aimlessly.

“Hello?” Joyce's voice echoed through the walls. Will sighed in relief rubbed at his non-bruised eye lightly, trying to prepare to calm his mom down. He turned away from Mike and walked out of the bathroom. She froze when she saw him, mouth dropping open with a worried look plastered across her face.

Dropping her purse on the ground, she quickly walked towards him and held his face in her hands “What happened, baby? Are you okay? Who did this to you?” she raced and Will could practically feel the anxiety radiate off of her, and he placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders to try and calm her down.

“I’m okay, Mike saw me. I'm okay.” He reassured her. She looked like she was about to cry as she pulled him into a protective hug. He was a little taller than her now, which he was oddly proud of. Mike still basically towered above the both of them as he closed the door behind him, almost reaching Hopper’s height.

He rubbed her back softly but grimaced at the pressure against his ribs. She noticed this and backed off “Why would someone do this to you?” she asked. Will shook his head slowly.

“It was Troy, so no reason.” Mike said “Most satisfying thing I've ever done was push him to the ground. I should do it again sometime, maybe a little harder.”

“Mike, stop.” Will ordered him. Mike paused mid opening the door and turned away. Will rubbed at his mother's hand until she moved it away from his swollen rib.

Mike clenched his jaw “This can't just slide.”

“It’s not going to.” Joyce said gravely “We’ll let Hop handle this, okay?” she offered and put a hand on his arm. His face fell for a moment, and nodded slowly.

Will wiped a hand across his mouth and sat down on the couch with a small grunt of discomfort “We got any bandages? My nose is killing me.”

Joyce nodded and disappeared into a room quietly, coming out with a small leather bag with an opened zipper. She handed it to Mike and went straight for the phone to call Hop.

They had a weird thing-- Hopper and his mom, always just an inch away from finally dating. It was exhausting for Will to watch, a strange pull of _knowing_ what that felt like. He was painfully reminded of this feeling as Mike sat next to him and pulled out a square band aid from the bag and glanced up at Will for approval.

That look completely and utterly fucked up Will’s head now. Whenever he sees it, the image of Mike’s doe brown eyes looking up at him while holding his belt buckle with his wavering hands flashes across his mind. Whenever he sees that look, he agrees.

He could hear his mom murmuring into the phone and he tried to strain his ears to make it out but then Mike put a hand on his jaw and turned his head towards him and Will was gone again, totally and wholly _gone._ Mike pressed the square band aid against the bridge of his nose to cover the gash that sat across it and smirked.

His heart pounded in his chest. “Thanks.” He squeaked, uselessly hoping the heat in his cheeks weren't visible.

By the way Mike smiled, it was extremely visible. They sat there for a moment, Mike's hand still cupped around Will’s jaw. Mike bit his lip and turned to look in Joyce's direction. When he couldn't see her and he knew she couldn't see them, he turned back to face Will and leaned a little closer.

Will’s breath hitched in his throat and he found his hands frozen. Mike leaded Will’s face closer to his and slowly closed his eyes. Will was in a dream-like trance as they leaned closer together and--

“Hopper’s on his way!” Joyce called as the click of the phone echoed through the dead-silent house. Mike instinctively flinched back and let Will go sharply.

Will tried to breathe, no matter how shallow the air felt to his lungs as Joyce walked back into the room and sat on the couch. There are not many times he feels bothered at his mother's presence and he always felt guilty when he did, but _damn_ if she didn't have bad timing.

_Bad timing for what? What was going to happen?_

_Mike was going to kiss him._

It was a little late, Will knew that, but it struck him full-force with a bluntness Troy’s fist lacked; genuinely shocking.

Mike was going to kiss him. Mike Wheeler was going to kiss Will Byers. Mike liked boys. Mike liked _him._ _Mike liked him. Mike was going to kiss_ him _._

After repeating the phrase about a thousand times in his head and feeling his stomach light up with sparks that sent bolts of electricity and heat through his chest every time, another feeling came. A little darker this time. Scarier.

Will was scared of this. Of course, he was excited and joyous and relieved, but he was scared.

What would they _do_? Start dating? Could they even do that? Would they keep it a secret? Would they keep it a secret from the party? From everyone?

 _It would be okay,_ Will thought hopefully. Being optimistic wasn’t usually his weakness.

“Earth to Will, you there?” His mom’s voice brought him back with a waving hand.

He looked weakly at it “What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention.”

“If you want to do something about Troy, you can.” Joyce seriously said. It seems this seriousness passed onto Mike, whose face was still a little red.

“I-it was my fault this time.” He stuttered.

Mike hit Will’s knee with the back of his hand lightly and shook his head “No.”

“You weren't there, Mike. I threw the first punch.” He haphazardly said with a prickly feeling against the bridge of his nose where the band-aid was snug against. He raised a hand to poke at it, but his wrist was pushed down by two of Mike’s fingers before he could touch it.

Mike gawked at him “That's such a bullshit reason! You saw yourself, right?”

Joyce sighed loudly enough to get the two boys to stop bickering and moved back towards Will where she placed both of her scrawny hands on his cheeks “Are you sure you don't want to do this?” she slowly asked. Will let himself relax into her hands and nodded slightly.

She returned the gesture and let her hands fall to his shoulders that always slouched and stayed small. Joyce wondered if he would always stay small.

Will felt like he was barely conscious. Time felt spotty. Hopper came over, freaked out, Mike yelled at him to calm down, Will clouded the situation so it didn't sound as bad, Joyce called bullshit, Mike held his hand in secret, Hopper threatened to arrest Troy, Will got a little pissed, Mike held his hand in secret, Joyce asked Mike if he could ‘sick’ Jane on him, Mike held his hand in secret.

Mike held his hand.

Will found himself totally and absolutely _whipped_ yet again.

Shit.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I might just continue this? I don't know. I need your opinions!


End file.
